Digger

I took some time away from watching movies and making fun of others to write another short story. If I didn't mention it before, I am collecting my short stories and intend to publish them as a collection at a later date. Chester (below) is the first installment, Attack from Slovoxia (also below) the second, and this will be the third. I'm going to try to have a collection of ten stories. But for now, enjoy Digger.

Steven knew it was a bad idea. Oh, but this was really not going well. And it was only going to get worse. The pool of red liquid was starting to coagulate. He knew that would happen if he just left it there exposed to the air too long. But what else was he supposed to do?

Maybe he should stick the whole mess into a garbage bag and shove it into a dumpster. Garbage collection day was tomorrow. Nobody would be the wiser.
The dogs.

The dogs would surely sniff it out. Then he'd be up the creek. There'd be no hiding then. Dogs are known for uncovering monstrosities such as this.

Could it possibly get any worse? Yes. A blotch had spattered across the kitchen and landed on the carpet in the adjacent living room. He never imagined it could have shot so far. It was sinking deep into the nap of the light beige Berber, soon to become a permanent scarlet badge of his misgivings.

How does one purge his house of such an evil deed?

Can something like this ever be forgiven? No.

Steven decided he would just have to take this incident like a man. He would have to live with the knowledge that he had screwed up big time.

No one needed to find out. He could create a believable story. Besides, he rarely had house guests. He could put a rug over the stain. He would be fine. He would vow, though, never to attempt to cook his own spaghetti sauce again...ever.

"Sabrina! Colin!" he called. Sabrina came trotting into the kitchen, her calico fur as beautiful as a snow-covered tundra against the backdrop of an Alaskan mountain range. Colin was not far behind. The Husky's bright blue eyes could melt your heart with a glance. But affection would come later, after the spontaneous midday snack.

The final blow, however, came hard to Steven's ego, when even his devoted canine companions refused to consume the pot of slop that had become a culinary fiasco.

Then a small grin came over his face as Digger, the lithe brown tabby cat came leaping over the two mountainous dogs in pursuit of an extra meal.

"Take it where you can get it, suckers!" Digger sneered at the dogs, as he was more than happy to oblige Steven by lapping up a good portion of what was earlier proposed to be dinner.
Steven watched the scene a moment. The cat, resourceful in his own right, and enjoying the cleverness he felt he had, was basking in ecstasy while the three other members of the household contemplated.

"Well, kids," Steven shot a glance to the dogs, "I guess it's come to this tonight." He flipped open his laptop to order a pizza. Five minutes later, Steven flopped down into his eating/sleeping/reading chair, content that dinner was no longer an issue. At least that dilemma was no longer a concern. Why didn't he just do that in the first place?

Now, what to do with that body in the library?

Thanks for Visiting!!!